JOSIP PUPAČIĆ

1928—1971

Born in Slime near Omiš, Dalmatia, and lived in Zagreb. Died with his wife and daughter in an airplane accident. His books of poetry are:

KIŠE PJEVAJU NA JABLANIMA [The Rains Sing in the Poplars] 1955, MLADIČI [The Young Men] 1955, CVIJET IZVAN SEBE [The Flower Out of Itself] 1958, OPORUKA [The Testament] 1965, USTOLICENJE [Enthronement] 1965, MOJ KRIŽ SVEJEDNO GORI [Yet My Cross Still Burns] 1971, SABRANE PJESME [Collected Poems] 1978.

NAS SEDAM BRACE	WE SEVEN BROTHERS
Nas sedam braće visoke gledamo preko brijega u tavne gudure. Nas sedam braće velike. (Ja nisam velik. Malen. Ali visoko stojim uz svoju bratu.) I pitam: zašto se ogrće sunce. I pitam: zašto sunce odlazi. Malen stojim uz svoju braću visoko. I pitam ...	We seven brothers tall ones we look across the hill into the dusky mountain gorges. We seven brothers big ones (I am not big. Small. But tall I stand beside my brothers.) I ask: why does the sun cover itself. I ask: why does the sun depart. Small I stand beside my brothers tall. And I ask...
Velika. Velika su moja braća. Sunce odlazi. Toplo je od smijeha moje braće. Gledam poljubljen: dobro sunce odlazi. I gledam: stojimo visoki i gledarno.	Big. Big are my brothers. The sun departs. It is warming up from the laughter of my brothers. I am looking, kissed: the good sun departs. And I am looking: we stand the tall ones and we look.
Nas sedam braće sestara, nas sedan; rinova. I naše sestre. I naše tri sestre pjevaju. A otac naš sa štapom. Podbočen. I naša mati svijetlom radošću. Nas sedam braće. Stojimo. Ja malen, a mi visoki, Nas sedam braće. Hej! Nas sedam sinova.	We seven brothers sisters, we seven sons. And our sisters. And our three sisters sing. And our father with a cane. Propped up. And our mother with her radiant joy. We seven brothers. We stand. I a small one, but we tall ones, we seven brothers. Hi! We seven sons.

MOJ KRIŽ SVEJEDNO GORI	YET MY CROSS STILL BURNS
Evo me, moj svijete, na raskršću I tvom i mome Oprostimo se. — Ti plačeš Moj križ svejedno gori Udaljuješ se; bez pozdrava, bez rijeti, bez boga I odlazim prema istoj nepoz,natoj zvijezdi Snijeg pada, zemlja raste A ti poražen toneš Grad li si selo, neki postidjeni narod U krčmi Moj križ svejedno gori Uzdignut, razapet, mračan Dovikujem ti. — On gori Dovikujem ti. — Ti strepiš Iskre po tebi pršte Peku stravitne snove Moj svijete, vizalud stvaran Moj svijete, uzalud ljubljen Moj svijete	Here I am, my world, at the crossroad And yours and mine Let's part. You cry Yet my cross still burns You are leaving; without a farewell, without a word, without God And I am going on toward the same unknown star The snow is falling, the earth is growing And I, defeated, am sinking Whether a city, a village, or some of those ashamed people In the tavern Yet my cross still burns Elevated, crucified, gloomy I am crying out to you.—It burns I am crying out to you.—You are trembling The sparks are flying all over you They scorch the dreadful dreams O my world, created in vain O my world, loved in vain O my world
Udaljujem se. Pružam za tobom ruke Sjene velikih vojski nadiru iz davnina Zrak su omastile strijele Razbijen, usitnjen sanjaš Neprestane pritištu more Vjekovi pokapaju svjetlo Rane otaca izrastaju u kraste Divna majka Margarita prodaje suze Majka Margarita	I am leaving. I extend my hands toward you The shadows of the great armies emerge from remote ages Arrows darken the air Broken, fragmented, I dream Endless nightmares are oppressing me The centuries bury the light The wounds of the fathers are becoming scabs The wonderful Mother Margarita is selling the tears Mother Margarita
Moj kršž svejedno gori Nosim ga — moj križ a tvoje ime Nosim ga, slomljen ma svečan Puta ne vidim nigdje Voda po kojoj hodam hlapi Poda mnom bujaju pare Moj križ svejedno gori Odblistava u beskraj tvoje ime Udaljujemo se I putujemo prema istoj nepoznatoj zvijezdi Ti toneš po svome snu A ja koračam i grcam, i grcam, i gledam Prema beskraju Moj kršž svejedno gori Moj križ a tvoje ime	Yet my cross still burns I am carrying it—my cross but your name I am carrying it, broken but solemn I do not see the road anywhere The water on which I am walking evaporates The vapors expand under me Yet my cross still burns Up into infinity far away there gleams your name We are slipping away from one another And we are traveling toward the same unknown star You are submerging into your own dream And I am walking and weeping, and weeping and looking Toward infinity Yet my cross still burns My cross but your name.